


Dirty Little Secret

by novarrcissist (AbsolutelyNothing)



Category: Cobra Starship, The Academy Is...
Genre: Bloodplay, M/M, Period Sex, Unsafe Sex, technically, trans!William
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-04 16:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10283459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutelyNothing/pseuds/novarrcissist
Summary: In terms of Cobra Starship, William comes to Nate last. It goes Gabe, Alex, Victoria, Ryland, and then Nate, in that order.But in terms of what William comes to Natefor, he goes to Nate and Nate alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Today is my half birthday and also Ryan said he was desperate for more content from me so I wrote some nastie period porn because I haven't stopped thinking about Nate eating someone out on their period for at least a year now
> 
> Also, I only made one Nasty Nate joke, which probably deserves a medal
> 
> William is a trans male in this fic, even though it isn't explicitly stated

In terms of Cobra Starship, William comes to Nate last.

It goes Gabe, Alex, Victoria, Ryland, and then Nate, in that order. 

Gabe is his proxy boyfriend, or maybe his literal one, William’s not entirely sure on the boundaries and what sort of lexeme Gabe would apply to their relationship, whether it’s actually something romantic or not. William’s pretty sure it is, because Gabe’s happy to make out with anyone, drunk or sober, but he loves William in a way that isn't entirely platonic. Gabe does things for William, writes songs for him and holds his hand and sometimes they share a bed and all they do is spoon, which is  _romantic_. But they also have wild, explosive sex and they’re also not monogamous. But, if William had to say it under oath, he’d call Gabe his boyfriend and that’s why he goes to Gabe first.

Alex is second, because he also loves William, though not as intensely and not as much as Gabe. William’s relationship with Alex is decidedly more platonic, although they don’t have to be drunk or high to make out with each other, and they’ve also fucked. But Alex also has a really big thing for Nate, and a little one for Ryland, and he does _technically_ have a girlfriend. How serious that relationship is left unsaid. But as long as Alex wants to keep exchanging blowjobs in the back lounge of Cobra’s bus, William’s not going to stop him.

Victoria is beautiful, and sassy, and one of the only girls on the tour, so they hang out together a lot. She gets some things about him that the guys just don’t, and they’ll tangle their legs together on the couch and watch shitty rom-coms and talk over them and it’s a little junior high but sometimes it’s just what William needs. He and Victoria don’t have sex, but he has picked up an embarrassing amount of masturbation tips from her, and also a vibrator.

He doesn’t have sex with Ryland either, even though he knows Alex does, and Alex and Ryland are enough of one entity for William to sometimes think, in a post orgasm haze, that he’s had sex with Ryland by proxy. Mostly though, he doesn’t think of the two together and usually he and Ryland just hang out and drink beer, and sometimes they’ll play together, if they’re bored and have time. It’s laid back in a way the rest of the tour generally isn’t.

And Nate-

In terms of what William comes to Nate _for_ , he goes to Nate and Nate alone.

 

* * *

 

 

William gets really bad periods. Heavy flow, awful cramps that migrate into his back, and an intense, insatiable throbbing between his legs for a whole week. Birth control takes care of the heavy flow and the worst of the cramps, ibuprofen takes care of the rest, and nothing takes care of the arousal.

At least, William _himself_ can’t take care of the arousal. Stuffing fingers into his bleeding vulva isn’t exactly his idea of a good time, between the taboo and the mess, but sometimes he can’t help it. Humping a pillow just doesn’t do it for him, only leaves his clit rubbed raw and his body even more aroused than when he started, usually with a pair of ruined underwear to boot.

The vibrator Victoria gives him seems like a godsend at first, and in some ways it kinda is, when he’s not on his period. It’s pretty small, but William’s not looking for size with it, only the sensation. It gets him off good, and it gets him off thoroughly, right up until the first signs of his period start, and suddenly, it does nothing but leave him panting and aching, straining for more the same way the pillow does, and the same way his own fingers do, and instead of washing his fingers off, he has to dispose of a bloody condom, and then wash the toy and his fingers.

He spends the four or five days of his period turned on beyond belief with no way to take care of it.

It’s pretty fucking miserable.

It also kind of takes William a ridiculously long time to admit to himself what he does want. Or at least what he needs. But it’s probably both, if William’s really, really honest with himself, which he’s not really in the habit of being, at least not about things like this.

William’s not super big into penetrative sex. It feels fine, good when his partner is good, great, even, when he’s really in the mood for it. But mostly, he can take it or leave it, and he prefers to leave it. That’s one of the reasons it’s so nice hooking up with Brendon Urie. The kid’s entirely a bottom, and his mouth is pure sin.

That’s not the part that’s hard to admit.

He doesn’t even realize it consciously until one particularly bad night. He’s at home, luckily, so he can be as loud as he wants and he doesn’t have to be as self-conscious about the mess, can just spread down a sheet left over from when he painted the walls and go to town with a box of non-sterile gloves.

He’s naked from the waist down, knees on the sheet, t shirt rucked up above his belly button as he fucks two fingers shallowly into himself. He’s got his eyes closed, lower lip between his teeth, because when he looks at the gloves he feels a little too much like he’s getting finger fucked by a dirty doctor, and that doesn’t do anything for him and in fact just makes it awkward, even though, intellectually, he _knows_ they’re his own fingers.

It’s the second day of his period, so his flow is still heavy, still makes him wince when it starts up again every time he shifts after staying in the same position for too long, still forces him to change his pad every couple hours.

Blood runs down his thighs in dark red rivulets, leaving sticky red trails on his skin, and afterwards, it's frankly a little bit disgusting, but when he’s turned on, seeing the evidence feels good. Everything about it feels good when he’s turned on, and this time he can afford to go slow and have as many orgasms as he wants.

He switches from fingering himself to stroking his clit, smearing blood and wetness over it. He strokes slow, two fingers running up from his pussy to his clit, over and over again until it’s almost mesmerizing and he’s rocking into the touch and then his free hand drops from his hair down to get a grasp on someone else’s and his eyes fly open with a gasp as he comes.

So, yeah. Turns out he wants someone to eat him out on his period. Turns out he wants that really bad.

 

* * *

 

 

The Nate Thing, as William dubs it in his mind, forever after he first starts suspecting it, happens about three months later. In those three months, William makes himself sore every month imagining someone’s tongue on him, lapping at the blood dripping out of his pussy and then feeling guilty afterwards. He can’t even make himself look up porn of it, because he’s too paranoid and ashamed, and even with Chrome's option to obliterate everything from the beginning of time, his bandmates could easily find it somehow, he's sure. But he also can’t stop thinking about it, because it’s not just that he wants to be eaten out, he specifically wants to be eaten out on his period.

When someone brings up Never Have I Ever, William’s not thinking about his period at all. Thinking about his period in between periods is nonsensical. He only vaguely tracks them, too, knows to expect it around the first week of each month and leaves it at that.

He is thinking that Never Have I Ever is a total high school party game, but then again, nobody’s really done that much in high school.

They’re at Pete’s house, and Gym Class and Cobra are all there. Patrick makes a point of sitting out once Pete seconds playing Never Have I Ever, though he stays in the living room and Pete doesn’t protest too much.

“Never have I ever... been straight,” Gabe starts off right away, and all of them drink, even Gabe, although Patrick has to elbow Pete before Pete raises his glass to his mouth.

“I thought it was supposed to be things you’ve never done,” Victoria says, pushing her hair behind her ear. There’s lipstick all around the rim of her cup.

Gabe shrugs. “I took a drink,” He says, holding his cup out towards her. “I did, you all saw it.”

“Yeah, if you want it to be something you’ve never done, then you go for it,” Travie says. He’s sprawled easily next to William on the couch, their knees almost touching.

Victoria rolls her eyes. “Never have I ever owned a cat,” she says.

Alex scowls and takes a drink. “We should have a no targeting rule,” he mutters, and Gabe pats his thigh.

“It’s not our fault no one else here likes cats,” he says seriously, or at least as seriously as Gabe gets when he’s drunk, which is not very. 

Ryland clears his throat. “Um, okay. Never have I ever...” he starts in his Guy Ripley voice, and Alex groans, pressing his free hand to his face. Ryland makes a face, but drops the accent. “Had sex in a pool.”

William drinks, as do Gabe and Travie and Victoria. William’s just this side of tipsy, warm and content but not giggly or flirty. The game looks like it’s shaping up to be fairly mellow, and he's turning over a couple ideas in his own mind for when it's his turn.

And then Alex, out of nowhere, says, “Never I have ever had sex with someone on their period,” like it’s completely casual.

And then, equally as casual, Nate takes a drink.

William’s brain stops working for a solid minute. Nate doesn’t seem embarrassed, or even self-conscious, even as Gabe and Victoria catcall him.

“Fucking nasty,” Gabe says fondly, and puts his arm around Nate’s neck, and Nate suffers it with good grace, looking, if anything, slightly self-satisfied.

William’s staring, he realizes this, but he can’t make himself stop. No one else took a drink, not even Victoria, who Alex was probably trying to target back, and he just- Nate’s mouth isn’t full like Brendon’s, but God, it’s nice enough and if he were _willing_ \- His brain spins out at that, a record scratch, and fuck, he’s getting _wet_.

Gabe lets Nate go, and Nate shakes his head a little.

Alex just sighs. “Doesn’t count if they give you a blowjob, buddy,” he says, and William’s world comes crashing down.

Of course. Of _course_. Nate’s not into _that_ , they would’ve just gone down on him because he couldn’t fuck them, and that’s all there is to it. William feels foolish for even thinking anything else, and he finally wrenches his gaze away from Nate, turning his whole body into the arm of the couch and staring down into his drink, which is suddenly incredibly appealing. He downs the rest of it, even though no one’s said another never have I ever.

He sits out the rest of the game, claiming a headache, and switches to Sprite, which he nurses as the rest of them keep playing. No point getting drunk over that, because he won't forget. Nothing even happened, and they’d definitely notice if he just started downing shots. He looks up, once, feeling like he’s being watched, and Nate’s eyes are locked on him, gaze hot and intent. He doesn’t look away when William meets his gaze.

William blames the fizzing in his stomach on the carbonation from the soda.

 

* * *

 

 

 He doesn’t think about that night afterwards, except for how he does.  When he's on his back on his designated sheet, writhing as he rubs himself, the faceless person in his fantasy eating him out just right, William finds his hands sliding down into thick dark hair, grabbing handfuls of it, and when he comes, pleasure cresting higher than it has in a long time, the person pulls back and beneath the slick and blood, there’s the glint of a nose ring.

It doesn’t mean anything.

 

* * *

 

 

Warped Tour starts, and William avoids Cobra as much as he possibly can while also fucking two fifths of them and being friends with another two fifths, and the remaining one fifth that William actually wants to avoid tags along with the other four fifths. His head hurts.

He’s managing, though, even if Gabe’s kind of pissed at him because William took off when he saw him coming earlier in the morning, Nate trailing behind him, and he was supposed to go over and hang out with Alex on Cobra’s bus yesterday afternoon, but cancelled just in case Nate was there. It’s not like he can just tell them why he can’t see Nate. Nate didn’t actually do anything, and saying “Hey, I kinda can’t stop thinking about having hot period sex with your drummer,” is not only overstepping boundaries, but also the kind of thing that friendships (or boyfriendships) don’t recover from.

The avoidance is going super fucking well actually, all things considered. (All things being William’s dignity.) Which is, of course, why Nate finds him laying behind the merch tent after TAI’s set, where it’s relatively shaded and peaceful and William can close his eyes without worrying someone’s going to draw a dick on his face.

He’s pretty sure the presence is Victoria, because she knows how to be quiet when he needs it, so he jumps about twelve feet in the air and has a massive heart attack when Nate says, “You’re avoiding me.”

When William’s heart stops beating about twelve million miles a minute and he’s fairly certain he’s not going into cardiac arrest or dying or suffering hallucinations from heat stroke, Nate’s still there, looking disturbingly unperturbed as he rips up handfuls of dying grass and tosses them away.

“What-” William croaks, because he’s been robbed of the power of proper speech, “Are you doing here?”

“Dude, I totally saw you come back here,” Nate says, and lays his handful of grass aside. “You’re not as stealthy as you think you are. And that’s how I know you’re avoiding me.”

That’s the most words Nate’s ever said all at once, at least directed to William, and it’s sufficiently distracting for him to not immediately want to sink into the ground and die. “Um,” he says intelligently instead.

Nate sighs and stretches out beside him, dark hair fanning out. He rests his hands on his chest, and William has to look away, heat rising to his cheeks that has nothing to do with the disgustingly hot weather. Honestly, this kind of heat makes him miss winters in Chicago.

“At first I thought you were avoiding Gabe,” Nate says when it becomes clear William’s not about to come forth with anything resembling actual English sentences. “But then you cancelled on Alex, and you haven’t come by the bus at all, and you make it a super huge point to be somewhere I’m not.”

William closes his eyes again. Fuck. He had been asking around about where Nate was, but he thought he’d been totally discreet and completely aboveboard. “Coincidental,” he says, weak even to his own ears.

Nate snorts. “Yeah, no.”

William waits, but Nate leaves it at that, and William has no idea how to respond. Bringing up why he’s avoiding Nate is suicide. Maybe if he just stays quiet long enough, Nate will get bored and go away. He tries an unaffected attitude, deliberately relaxing into the ground, except he’s forgotten how to relax and keeps tensing up instead.

“It wasn’t a blowjob,” Nate says eventually, right around when William’s thinking about getting up and just making a break for it. But that- that throws him off, and piques his interest enough to keep him down.

He opens his eyes again, tilting his head to see Nate. “What?”

Nate’s looking back at him, bangs falling into his face. He pushes at them impatiently, but they slide through his fingers and curl back against his skin. It makes William itch to reach out and brush it back, just because it looks annoying, and William’s hands are not busy enough. “I didn’t let someone go down on me because they were on their period.” He turns back so William’s left facing the side of his head.

“Oh,” William says. His stomach does a weird flippy thing, and William tells it to can it. Everyone’s experimental, to some degree, and trying anal because they were on their period is like, fairly standard. Even plain old dick-in-vagina sex during a period, using a condom, is fairly tame and it’s not like William wouldn’t be okay with that but it’s not what he’s after and Nate’s not _offering_ , what the fuck is wrong with William, he’s fucking _sick_ -

“It was kinda the opposite, actually,” Nate says, all in a rush like if he doesn’t get the words out he might explode, and also like if he says them fast enough William won’t actually hear them and he’ll be completely off the hook.

But Nate may as well have yelled the words through a bullhorn, because they’re ricocheting around William’s skull, and oh, oh, fuck, if he’s saying what William thinks he’s saying, but he can’t be saying that because people don’t just say those kinds of things. William’s heart is beating a million miles an hour again, tapping out a fast rhythm to the beat of Nate’s words, over and over. _It was kinda the opposite, actually. It was kinda the opposite, actually._

Nate rolls over, pushing himself up with his hands and he’s standing completely before it breaks through the static in William’s brain.

He reaches out, unthinking, and grabs at Nate’s ankle. “Why did you tell me that?” He wheezes, and in terms of things he could say, that’s pretty low on the list of things William will want to beat himself up over later. If he even lives longer than the next three and a half minutes. Right now it’s kind of hard to tell.

Nate stops and looks down at him. His hair still obscures his face somewhat, but Nate’s kind of inscrutable half the time anyway, so his hair might not have anything to do with how William has no idea what’s going on in Nate’s head.

“It’s kind of a thing for me,” Nate admits, and then ducks his head so he’s not meeting William’s eyes. “Well, not kind of. Very definitely, it’s a thing for me.”

William sort of feels like Wile E. Coyote after he gets an anvil dropped on his head. He’d say except that he’s not dead, except he’s not so sure he’s not, and this is some kind of incredibly, amazingly fucked up afterlife. Dead grass pokes into his skin, and he can feel a sunburn starting on his left shoulder, though, so it’s probably real life. He lets out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding, and the words “It’s definitely a thing for me too,” come out with it.

Immediately, bile rises up his throat after the words, too little too late after the damage has already been done. And then his brain catches up to the conversation, to the way Nate’s gone completely still and he’s not meeting William’s eyes yet but he hasn’t run away either.

And okay, yeah, why would Nate run away if _he_ admitted to having a thing for it _first?_

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for that to sink in, and then William sits up fast, spluttering as all the blood rushes south and leaves him lightheaded. When he stops seeing sparkles in front of his eyes, Nate’s actually looking at him, his lower lip caught between his teeth. William blinks up at him. “It’s a thing for me too,” he repeats, a little unsure.

Nate relaxes, just enough for William to see the way his shoulders come down and he stops holding his arms so tight to his body. “Yeah I-I kinda thought, maybe, when you got so weird about it during never have I ever.”

Three fucking months William could have saved on guilt and passively hoping for a gaping hole to swallow either him or Nate up so they’d never have to see each other again. Time not well spent. Time not even well wasted. “You shoulda just told me then,” he says, a little accusingly as the memory of Nate starting at him across the room comes to mind.

Nate lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t know, actually, if you were into it or grossed out by it. But when you kept avoiding me, I kinda figured into it, because if you weren’t into it, you probably wouldn’t have put that much effort into not seeing me. We’re not really close friends.”

William sighs and stands, dusting his jeans off, not looking at Nate. “Yeah, well. Sorry I made it so obvious.”

Nate doesn’t say anything for a moment, but when William dares to look at him, he’s broken into a smile. “I’m not,” he says when William makes eye contact. “Because I didn’t just come here to confirm that we have a mutual kink.”

William’s body fizzes with adrenaline, starting low in his belly. “Oh?” He asks, even though he’s been considering this since he first thought Nate could possibly be into it, too. It just never occurred to him that it might actually happen.

“Uh, yeah. It would be kinda stupid for us to never do anything about, right?” For the first time in the whole ordeal, Nate starts to look visibly anxious, as if knowing about the kink was okay but propositioning William about it took it over an invisible line.

They’ve probably crossed about twelve lines, none of which William cares to examine. “Yes,” he says quickly, just in case Nate tries to redact his offer.

“Good,” Nate says, and crosses his arms over his chest. There’s a slight, awkward tension over them, and William doesn’t know what to say. His period isn’t due for weeks, and his fingers itch to reach out and touch Nate, maybe kiss him, except that seems somehow inappropriate.

William crosses his legs and when he almost unbalances, uncrosses them again. “Do you have like, a vampire kink?” He blurts out, because My Chemical Romance had kind of come up a little in William’s head several times since he’d discovered that he was into the idea of period sex, but he doesn’t think he’s into blood play besides that. He doesn’t want someone to bite him, or cut him, or any of that. Best to get that out of the way now.

“Not really?” Nate says, frowning. “I mean, not unless I was the vampire, I guess. I didn’t jerk off to you in the Sixteen Candles video, if that’s what you’re asking.”

William chokes on a laugh, but it eases the tension between them and Nate can’t keep a straight face either, until they’re giggling like morons behind the merch tent and every time they look at each other they just laugh harder, until William’s stomach hurts and tears are streaming down his cheeks. It feels good. Amazing, even.

And when they finally walk back to their separate buses, Nate knocks his shoulder against William’s bicep, because that’s where his shoulder comes to, and says, “Please text Gabe back. We’re all going insane." 

It's easy. Simple. 

William tries not to run back to his bus. 

* * *

 

They don’t have a chance to actually do anything until the tour is over. There’s a slow crawl of anticipation, and when William gets his period, and he’s stuffed in his bunk with a towel and an ever trusty pair of latex free nitrile exam gloves, he seriously considers going to Nate. But he doesn’t want the first time to be cramped and sweaty, too fast and too clumsy trying to get off while the back lounge is unoccupied. There needs to be time, for all the things William’s fantasized, and then some.

So it gets put off until after the tour, when William’s settled back in his apartment in Chicago and he hasn’t done laundry, but he’s got enough clean clothes in his closet that it’s not an issue yet, and he’s making do with takeout because he doesn’t want to take the time and effort to go grocery shopping quite yet. He plays a little, tinkers with melodies and words, but mostly he sleeps and zones out to shitty movies on television.

And then he calls Nate.

William wakes up at 4am to cramps and bloody underwear. Luckily, blood hasn’t soaked through to the sheets, because he wasn't going to wash them even if it had.

He drags himself out of bed, puts a pad in his underwear and pops two ibuprofen for the cramps, and then waits six hours before he deems it a reasonable time to call Nate. He knows Nate’s in Chicago, which he counts a major miracle, and also a sign that this is meant to be, if God even deigns to look upon such heathen things.

Nate arrives within half an hour of William’s call.

“Hi,” he says when William answers the door, and they both look anywhere but at each other.

“Hi,” William says to the door across the hall, and that jolts in him into action, because the last thing he needs is one of his neighbors coming out and seeing Nate, even though there’s really no chance they’ll be thinking about what Nate’s actually here for. But still. William’s a tiny bit paranoid. He steps back. “You can come in.”

Nate brushes past him, and William bites down on an awful needy sound. He’s so fucking turned on; he hasn’t touched himself at all like he would have done normally by now, and just having Nate in his apartment is making the arousal ten times worse. He’s strung too tight, and he jumps when the door clicks shut, even though he’s the one who did it.

Nate’s just standing in the kitchen when William turns around. “Um,” He says, and it’s reassuring that he’s just as far out of his depth as William is. Smooth Nate had featured in some of William’s fantasies, but Awkward Nate is a hell of lot easier to deal with in person. William’s clit still throbs.

“We could-bedroom?” William offers. Etiquette for this kind of situation isn’t taught anywhere. At least, it probably isn’t and William would be much too ashamed to try and look it up. He tucks his hair behind his ears and then shakes it out again, self-conscious.

“Okay,” Nate says finally, and William belatedly realizes he doesn’t know where William’s bedroom is. Not that the apartment is that big but-

William flushes and leads the way.

Nate sucks in a breath when William opens the door, and William knows what it looks like, even though his eyes are on the floor. A sheet spread over the bed – a clean one, not the filthy stained one he usually puts down for himself – and all the rest of the blankets and pillows stacked neatly beside the bed. A box of gloves on the nightstand is a little obvious, but William didn’t know where else to put them and the box is also conveniently covering dental dams. There’s no point in not being safe, and William had a lot of time on his hands.

He reaches past Nate to shut the door, mostly because he feels stupidly exposed with it open, even though Nate’s in the bedroom and they’re the only ones there. The click is final, deliberate, and all the blood not in William’s cheeks has rushed down between his legs.

When he turns back around, he’s met with Nate’s bare chest. His nipples are hard, despite how warm it is in the bedroom, or maybe William’s the only one who’s sweating. His gaze travels down, past Nate’s soft belly to the V of his hips and down to the tops of his jeans, settled low on his hips. He’s completely hairless and William’s mouth goes dry.

Nate clears his throat, hands hovering uncertaintly at the waistband of his jeans. “Just jumping right in would be fine?” He says, but inflects it like a question, voice lilting up at the end.

William jerks his head in a nod. His gaze is still fixed on Nate’s fingers where they’re pressing into his jeans, and no matter how many times he swallows his mouth feels like a desert. “Yeah, um, yeah, that’s-” He trails off, but it doesn’t matter because Nate’s undoing his jeans, pushes them down his thighs and he’s half hard in his boxers.

William belatedly remembers his own clothes, pulls his t shirt off, and then his sweat pants down, whipping them off as fast as he can because now that it’s started, he can’t stop and if he watches Nate strip he just might come from that, even though there’s nothing overtly sexy about it.

Nate strips his boxers off and perches on the bed, eyes on William with such a searing heat that the back of William’s neck goes hot. He’s in just his underwear, well aware of how the wings of the pad are visible. He can’t cross his legs because Nate’s still looking.

“Take them off,” Nate says hoarsely, less like an order and more just like he’s really fucking turned on. His right hand drifts over his cock, like he might stroke himself, but then it settles on his thigh instead, and William pictures those fingers on his own thighs, trailing upward.

William drops them, cheeks burning when he sees just how much blood is on the pad. He should’ve changed it a long time ago, probably, and it’s a little disgusting how saturated it is, but when he looks up, Nate’s eyes are dark and he’s licking his lips.

Suddenly, nothing about it seems disgusting at all.

He still edges over to the bed, careful not to spread his legs too wide until he’s over the sheet. Cleaning blood out of the carpet is decidedly not sexy.

Nate’s eyes follow him, not making any attempt to disguise the way he’s staring between William’s legs, trying for a glimpse. Already, William can feel drops of blood at the tops of his inner thighs. He’s in the thick of his period, the first two days when the flow is heaviest.

“I’ve got gloves,” William says, settles back against the pillows a little as he reaches back for the box. His thighs spread open slightly and Nate looks like he may be having trouble breathing. “And, um-dental dams-” He picks one up gingerly, but Nate’s already shaking his head.

“I wanna taste you,” He says plainly.

Holy fucking Christ.

William’s legs spread all the way open without any conscious prompting from his brain, like the slut he is for this. “Please,” he gasps. They don’t need foreplay; there’s plenty of time for that afterwards, if that’s even a thing they’re going to have, because William’s a little unclear on whether or not he’s allowed to like, kiss Nate or cuddle with him after they have fantastically mind blowing sex, or if that’s strictly off-limits.

Nate crawls towards him, on his hands and knees until he can slide his fingers up William’s thighs, and the cool air tells William exactly where he’s wet, exactly where the blood is. It doesn’t tell him how he looks, but by the raw want on Nate’s face, it must be pretty damn sweet. He’s all the way hard now, William can see his cock between his legs, but then Nate lays himself down on his belly and William can't see him anymore, could see himself if he tried but he doesn't want to.

Nate's thumbs spread William open and William bites down whimpers as more blood trickles out. Every movement has blood flowing out of him when he’s in this stage, but it’s different knowing Nate’s watching it, seeing it run down his skin and pool on the sheet. “Fuck,” Nate whispers. “You’re bleeding so much. Please, let me-”

Acquiescence doesn’t leave William’s lips before Nate leans in, tongue trailing up William’s clit, soft and feather light, and lightning arcs up and down William’s body, leaves him shivering with his head tipped back into the pillow. Embarrassing whimpers escape his throat before he clamps a hand over his mouth to shut himself up. It's so much better than his own fingers, even though the pressure's kind of the same, soft and slow over William's clit. It's so stupid-hot, William could come if he thinks about it too hard, so he just stops thinking instead. 

Nate keeps up the soft licking, and William wants to know what it’s like for him, how he can see the blood and wetness dripping out of William, how he’s tasting it and William wants to haul him up just to see what he looks like, whether there’s evidence yet of what he’s been doing. He pants, fingers gripping the sheet.

Nate sucks on William’s clit until William’s on the edge, shaking all over and desperate to come, heat pooling low in his belly and it’s all he can do to keep his legs flat and not buck up into Nate’s mouth, just force Nate down and make him take it, rock off against him until he comes. He wonders if he can convince Nate to let William ride his face and just that thought alone has him turning into the pillow and groaning as he comes against Nate’s mouth, too late to warn him.

He expects Nate to pull back, which he does, but he also expects him to sit up and maybe ask to fuck William, and William’s already craning his head for a glimpse of Nate’s bloody mouth, when Nate leans back in, tongue pointed and pressing inside. William’s head crashes back against the pillow with a gasp, hips thrusting up hard as his hands fly to Nate’s hair, holding him there. There’s no refractory period when he’s like, he’s already throbbing hard and ready to go again. Nate doesn’t seem to mind the hair pulling or the movement of his hips, even moans when William does it again, probably smearing blood all along Nate’s face, and William’s mind separates from his body.

Nate eats him out three times, each time making him come harder than the last until he’s a little sensitive, and even so, Nate doesn’t come up until William pulls him away, still trying to tongue at William’s clit.

The evidence is just as obscene as William had hoped. There’s blood all over Nate’s face, on his nose and cheeks, dripping down his chin and his lips are parted enough to see that it’s smeared over his teeth too, obvious and hot. Some of it's dried, but enough of it's wet. When William shifts, there's a damp stickiness all along his thighs and lower back. Nate licks at his lips, and William lovehates the way it makes him even wetter. “Can I fuck you now?” He asks uncertainly.

William groans, nodding out his yes before he even thinks. Nate must be aching by now, and William reaches backwards without taking his eyes away from Nate’s face, fingers scrambling for a condom as Nate crawls up his body. His dick brushes against William’s thigh and William’s eyes flutter closed, his fingers losing dexterity and mostly just trailing through all the junk he has on his nightstand. He knocks the gloves off, but he’s got a feeling that they weren’t going to use them anyway.

God, he is never, ever going to wonder about the nickname Nasty ever again.

“Uh,” Nate says, his gaze somewhere below William’s collarbone. There’s blood smeared on the corner of his mouth, thick and dark where he missed licking, and it shouldn’t be so fucking hot, but William wants to lick it off, lick into Nate’s mouth and taste himself. He is possibly the worst person on the planet.

“What?” He asks intelligently, when Nate isn’t forthcoming with whatever the fuck he was going to say. William’s not usually so impatient, but fuck, his period always makes him that way, and if Nate doesn’t start talking, William’s going to drag him up and start licking his lips without asking.

Nate shifts uneasily. “I was thinking, maybe-and you can totally say no, I get it-but if we didn’t use one? I’m clean.”

By now, William knows that when Nate rushes his words, it’s because he really fucking wants something and is ashamed to have asked, but it doesn’t stop his head from spinning and he goes from halfway to another orgasm to teetering on the edge, even though Nate hasn’t said anything particular dirty, only implied it. “Fuck. God. Yes. Yes, please,” William gasps out. The idea of Nate fucking him bare, blood coating his cock and dripping out, down to his balls and William’s thighs and the sheet-

“I will so eat you out again afterwards,” Nate promises, lips pressed to William’s ear and William comes, untouched like a teenager with an embarrassing whimper, leaving a sticky print on Nate’s thigh.

 

* * *

 

 

They don’t tour together often enough for Nate to have William’s schedule, like, completely figured out or anything. It’s just a happy coincidence that there’s a party tonight, and Nate begged off, and an even happier one that William heard about it when he was only about three minutes into the party without a drink in hand yet.

A little part of him wishes he’d at least had one drink, because this is nerve wracking as hell, even though it’s not like this is the first time William is asking, and it’s not like Nate won’t give it to him. But still. He steels himself and knocks before going inside.

Nate’s not jerking off in his bunk or anything. Not that it would matter if it would, but he’s only playing video games in the front lounge, and he looks mildly surprised to see William. On screen, his character dies, but Nate doesn’t seem to notice. “Everyone’s at the party,” he says, tilting his head a little.

William’s too tall and awkward, suddenly. He feels like a giraffe. “You’re not,” he says, a little stupidly, and it isn’t at all what he meant to say anyway.

Nate still sets the controller down, slow and deliberate. “Oh,” He says, and there’s an epic contained in the syllable. “Let me just get a towel.”

And that’s all he says before he rises off the couch and disappears into the bunks, his bare feet almost soundless.

In terms of Nate Novarro, William’s hit the fucking jackpot.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [cobrakink ](http://cobrakink.tumblr.com) on tumblr


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